


the other side

by morino



Category: Original Work
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 15:04:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14896818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morino/pseuds/morino
Summary: a collection of drabbles and ficlets about mess kids.





	1. 01. index

**CHAPTER INDEX  
** in alphabetical order

 

  * 04: **cheol / hyungil:**  canon
  * 07: **cheol / hyungil:** high school au (students)



 

  * 03: **sungki / geunho:**  demons au (incubus)
  * 05: **sungki / geunho:** supernatural au (nymphs)
  * 06: **sungki / geunho:** zombie apocalypse au



 

  * 02: **sungki / jeong:**  magic au (wizards-in-training)




	2. 02. with two drops of syrup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **kym sungki / yang jeong**  
>  [teen] - wizarding and magic
> 
> twigs!  
>    
>  _or:_  
> 
> jeong and sungki are wizards in training. sungki has fallen into another project he refuses to explain, this time leading them to the back of his aunt's book store.

"We've been at this all day," Jeong points out for what must have been the fourth time. Today has felt longer than it has any right to be and he was more than ready to pack up and go home. "There isn't—"  
  
Sungki cuts him off by raising a hand and wagging his finger as he tut, tut, tuts. Jeong just barely resists the urge to roll his eyes.  
  
"Jeong," he says with the timbre of a wise and worldly saint; Jeong is not fooled. "Not a legendary wizard in the world has ever accomplished something great by—"  
  
Jeong drops the thick potions manual he's been holding onto their cluttered desk to shut Sungki up because _no,_ absolutely fucking not.  
  
Sungki was not pulling the _'no one has ever done anything great by giving up'_ card on him again. It worked at rallying him the first time and then Jeong let it be used to coax him into a silent acceptance twice after that. That was over four hours ago. A reluctance towards suffering prolonged exposure to the artfully crafted and manipulative pout on Sungki's face was Jeong's downfall the fourth go-around.  
  
How did that saying go? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me thrice plus one and there will be no patience left to give.  
  
"We're scholars in the back of your aunt's empty book store."  
  
Sungki blinks. He looks like an affronted and mortally wounded deer with a speckle of confusion in its eyes.  
  
Jeong knows that look - it's the same one he had on his face when Jeong had the _audacity_ to ask how and why the fuck Sungki turned his aunt's kitchen into a winter wonderland war zone last summer with flour and, for some unexplained reason, fluffy white rice.  
  
Sungki wouldn't answer his questions so Jeong refused to give him a cleaning spell to help sort out the mess.  
  
That face did not get Sungki out of cleaning duty and a week without magical practice when his aunt came home either; it didn't work then and it wasn't going to work now.  
  
"I want to go _home,_ " Jeong stresses. The expression on Sungki's face lingers for a few seconds longer before he drops it in favor of huffing and then whining as he folded his arms on top of the open book he'd been flipping through and resting his head on them.  
  
"I can't believe you won't help me with this," mumbles Sungki and ah, so _that's_ his next ploy. Jeong was not giving him the time to baste his brain with guilt.  
  
Jeong walks around their shared table. He settles his hands on Sungki's shoulders once he's stood behind him and presses down - his fingers work against flesh, thumbs rubbing small circles into Sungki's back.  
  
Predictably, Sungki is practically a sentient puddle of goo a couple of seconds into his impromptu massage. He grunts softly before lifting his head and leaning back until his back was flush against the chair, head close to resting upon Jeong's abdomen.  
  
"Can't believe," he murmurs, words somewhat slurred and tinted with a coat of exhaustion Sungki's been unwilling to acknowledge since they got in. "Don' think ‘m not wise to what you're doing."  
  
"How about wising up to the fact that I'm not a little worker bee with a bottomless well of energy for shit you refuse to tell me about?"  
  
That has Sungki showing off his petulance with a whine that Jeong quickly drowns out with the moan his fingers rip from his lungs, hands sliding a bit further down his back.  
  
"We're done for the day."  
  
Between the careful kneading of his hands and the finality in his tone, Jeong leaves no room for argument. Sungki relents, eyes closing as his lips part and forfeit words for the soft, happy little sounds he makes when Jeong's fingers work out a kink in just the right place.


	3. 03. (it don't run) in our blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **kym sungki / pyo geunho**  
>  [mature] - demons (incubus/succubus), in the rain
> 
> be the apple, i'm your eve.
> 
>  
> 
> _or:_
> 
>  
> 
> sungki is an incubus who wasn't aware of his heritage. geunho is just a boy with a curiosity that burns fiercely enough to draw sungki's soul to him.

Sweet, crisp—he drags his tongue over a garden of goosebumps and draws poorly shaped circles with each tear the grey, rumbling sky has left on the sinner's shivering skin.    
  
_ Finally, _ his heart sings, pumping lava through his veins; up the sides of his neck and down to his fingertips. The flames lap tirelessly at the dormant bud planted within him, watering the forgotten need with so much vigor it curls his toes.    
  
"Sungki," his poison exhales, sputtering around the drops of rain decorating his lips. Sungki's hunger roars between his ears, the deafening howl of a starving animal, and he clamps his teeth around flesh to silence it.    
  
The boy and the prey beneath his hands, his mouth, his being, gasps at the sharp sting of teeth trying to pierce his thigh. Hands move and tangle in his hair, fingers slipping as they try to latch onto the wet locks. His heart makes a panicked jump, two and then three, as Geunho's hands weakly tug—was he trying to pull him away?   
  
In a flurry, worry and flecks of clarity soar to the forefront of his mind:  _ What am I doing? Why here? Why now? _   
  
But as quickly as it was woven, the worry wanes, washed away as he feels Geunho's cock throb in the gentle and barely present grip of his hand; as he hears him trying to hide how choppy his breathing flow has become, anticipation hanging off every quiet pant.    
  
He grins around the etched copy of teeth he's left on Geunho's skin and bites harder.


	4. 04. 2am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **geum hyungil / park cheol**  
>  [teen] - canon verse

it's 2:36 am.   
  
and cheol is here, palms covered by the sleeves of his woolen jumper, fingers peeking out like paws as they hovered over dials and the keys of his laptop.   
  
the small bin hugging the inner wall of the desk propping up his work space is overflowing; hastily crushed balls ripped from the spine of the notebook balancing precariously on the edge of the desk litter the space around the bottom of the bin. some of them have rolled away, a few sitting next to cheol's feet. there's even one beside the couch on the opposite end of the room — it's already started to unfurl. hyungil can't make out the words that peak out at him from where he stands at the door.   
  
a stray paper plane lies forgotten just off to the side of the desk, leaning on its folded wing; an odd pang of nostalgia knocks around in his chest at the sight.   
  
"you know you still need sleep, right?"   
  
"i know," cheol replies, pushing his headphones and letting them dangle around his neck. he pulls his laptop a little closer to himself, opening a small square of space near the corner of the desk.   
  
hyungil steps in and pulls the door closed behind him, depositing the takeout bag he carries onto the desk before pulling out a box of fries for himself.   
  
cheol blindly reaches over his shoulder to steal one when hyungil perches behind him, curious to see the visual representation of the project that's tying cheol to his chair tonight. hyungil doesn't complain, instead resting an arm on the back of the chair and settling in.   
  
it's going to be a long night.


	5. 05. heart skipped a beat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **kym sungki / pyo geunho**  
>  [mature] - supernatural (nymphs), weird nymph species confession rituals, nymph hearts don't look like human hearts but that probably doesn't make it any less strange
> 
> last christmas i gave you my heart. the very next day you were still quite shaken over this gory and incomprehensible gesture.
> 
>  
> 
> _or:_
> 
>  
> 
> geunho's been dating a nymph named sungki. he likes sungki a lot. as it turns out, sungki likes him a lot, too.

Geunho feels sick. That’s normal; it would be the expected reaction to waking up and realizing he hadn’t just been stuck in some soft, hazy, horror-inducing limbo between dream and nightmare the night before.  
  
The jar perched in the middle of his dining table is less than normal. In fact, if Geunho wasn’t one to mince his words, he might say the absurdity was unnatural and easily the single most disgusting thing he’s ever seen in his life.  
  
There’s no water at the bottom to keep the jar’s contents afloat - it’s holding itself up with one thick vine-looking thing that spreads out into several thinner versions of itself that tangle and overlap at the base of the jar. Some of them have taken to climbing up the sides, coating the glass with a thick and glowing reddish pink substance that the smaller tendrils leave behind. The texture so closely resembles melted chocolate that Geunho knows he will never be able to look at chocolate the same way again. That is, if he ever has the stomach to look at any type of chocolate in any state at all after today.  
  
The shade of pink reminds Geunho of the color that paints his tongue after he’s tossed a jawbreaker into his mouth. He typically stays far away from them, never too enthused by the idea of spending several minutes nursing the things down until they were soggy enough for him to bite into. But Minseo likes to hand them out whenever she’s hanging out with anyone (she always has a few hidden away in a pocket or at the bottom of her handbag), and Geunho doesn’t like saying no to her and her bright, effulgent smile, so he accepts whatever candy balls she gives him with no complaints.  
  
Even though they aren’t his favorite, Geunho still really likes the taste. It makes the first few minutes bearable, until the shell’s coating is licked all the way off and he’s left with a flavourless and slightly more chewable second layer that he needs to bite his way through to get to the gooey syrup or tiny ball of gum at the center.  
  
Sungki once told him that his favorite thing about Geunho’s temporary matrimonies with jawbreakers was the way they colored his tongue. At the time, Geunho assumed it had something to do with Sungki liking the taste just as much as he did; he would always make broad, sweeping strokes over the rug of color on his tongue when they’d kiss after Geunho ate one. Having the pleasure of experiencing how slippery and eager to explore Sungki’s tongue could get always made him heat up, from his cheeks to his neck to his stomach, and Sungki would giggle merrily into his mouth whenever Geunho moaned from it.  
  
Never in a million years would he have imagined Sungki’s fascination with that specific taint on his tongue could be related to something like... _this._  
  
  
-  
  
  
Geunho expected more to be different when he shyly accepted Kym Sungki’s kiss proposal in a secluded corner of the local skatepark one afternoon, surrounded by colorful ocean-inspired graffiti and the foreboding chill that came with the autumn season.  
  
He breathed in heavily, back pressed against the brick wall as he squeezed his eyes shut and waited for something slimy and a little off-putting to be lathered onto his mouth in a poor imitation of a kiss. What he gets is the soft, plush press of Sungki’s very human-like lips and, sooner than he anticipated, Sungki’s equally human feeling tongue glazing over his bottom lip and asking Geunho’s mouth to part for him.  
  
  
-  
  
  
And Sungki just... left it there. Disappeared into the night while Geunho was pretending to be too drained to do anything but sleep, tripping over an unopened box on his way out—a thud so loud that Geunho could hear it through the walls and over the waves crashing between his ears.  
  
Perhaps the sound was only that easy to pick up because he was straining his ears for a sign that he hadn’t done the wrong thing; nearly falling to his knees and covering his mouth in repulsion at the sight of the pulsating organ in the jar Sungki held in his palms, a white ribbon wrapped neatly around the glass container with a bow sitting atop the lid.  
  
A gift.   
  
_(I guess you know what this is then, hah. Um, I-I know it’s sudden, but I felt it was time to give this to you. Fully. Like you’ve given me yours—in your human way. And since the exchange of gifts holds so much weight for your kind this time of year, I thought—Geunho? Geunho, are you okay—?)_  
  
Geunho feels sick. That was normal—it is the expected reaction to waking up and remembering his boyfriend of a year had given him his _beating heart for Christmas_ and he then proceeded to puke their dinner into a toilet bowl and insist on sleeping alone for the night as aforementioned boyfriend brushed back his hair with this blank, unassuming look on his face, because he needed time to ‘think about this’.  
  
It takes him thirty minutes, a lack of appetite, and one fledgling headache to come to terms with the fact that he made the absolute worst choice he could have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **nymph heart:** now that i've given myself time to think about this, nymph hearts in this piece look something like little throbbing orbs that glow and are probably shaped like a plant bud or something, with the vines holding them up when they aren't being held. so glorified flowers with something gooey on the vines that is non-toxic and probably serves the purpose of indicating whether the heart was taken from a nymph that was alive or not. oh, and nymph's don't need this hearts to live as they're specifically there to be shared with their beloved and are painlessly absorbed back into the body if and when necessary. they're treated more as second souls, if anything. 
> 
> **ending** : and geunho absolutely goes to sungki's apartment to tell him he loves him and the nymph parts of him that sungki hasn't really had any reason to share. he just loves all of him and he wants to be a part of all of it because it's part of sungki but maybe if they could slowly work themselves up to the beating soul organs and start with the smaller stuff like traditional nymph songs and dances, that would be great.


	6. 06. (a kiss) goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **kym sungki / pyo geunho**  
>  [mature] - au: zombie apocalypse
> 
> i hope we die simultaneously.
> 
> _or:_
> 
> two survivors reach the end of their rope.

he's out of bullets. they have a single baseball bat; they're not going to be able to hold off a horde that big with that alone.    
  
there's a window behind them, three floors up. they jump out and they're toast. they stay inside this bedroom any longer and they are both going to be found.    
  
geunho hasn't bothered trying to push the bookshelf on the left wall in front of the door. all they'd be doing is delaying the inevitable. sungki doesn't mind, just takes his hand and laces their fingers together. his grip is tight enough that geunho's fingers start to sting a little. he doesn't pull away.    
  
"i hope we die simultaneously," geunho whispers.    
  
a laugh bubbles up sungki's throat and he brings a hand up to cover it.    
  
the shuffling footsteps downstairs are getting louder, groaning thinning out somewhat as it gets closer. there's nothing for the creatures to see, nothing to hold their attention and give their rusted voice boxes something to make noise about.     
  
geunho hasn't heard that laugh enough. he wishes, like he does everyday that passes in sungki's presence, that he had known him before all this. known him long enough to have thousands of drawers with files of his laughter saved to memory. it would be something nice to play back in his mind, over the sound of ripping flesh and the inevitable screaming.    
  
there's always screaming. because it always hurts. maybe it's foolish of geunho to hope that it won't this time. that fate will smile down on the pitiful fools it trapped in its clutches and soften the unstoppable blow of death hurtling towards them.    
  
sungki's laugh has turned wet. he's crying. geunho wills himself not to after turning his head and seeing the small, wobbly smile on sungki's face.    
  
sungki leans in, pressing a soft and lingering kiss to his lips. the kiss tastes salty.   
  
"you're so romantic," sungki murmurs against his lips.    
  
the corner of geunho's mouth quirks up. he raises a hand, thumb brushing away a tear track as his palm settles upon sungki's cheek.


	7. 07. first

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **geum hyungil / park cheol**  
>  [teen] - au: high school students, jealousy, pining
> 
> hyungil, the resident troubled bad boy around the block, is absent for several days because of a cold. now feeling better, his best friend cheol eagerly awaits his return.

_ brrng, brrng, brrng. _   
  
hyungil sprawls out over his bedsheets as his alarm continues to sound, relentless in its mission to completely ruin any good dreams he happens upon the one time a month they show up, if that.    
  
last night's was especially good too. cheol was there, wrapped in silk, glittering jewels hanging off his every limb as the desert sun shone just beyond the sands behind him. he looked tanned for once. his smile, regal and subdued as it was, was absolutely blinding.    
  
rolling onto his side, hyungil wonders what he had been doing there, basking in his presence. he remembers staring up at cheol for the longest time, still has faint memories of harsh grains beneath his knees and an aching nape as he strained to look up.    
  
hyungil smirks into his pillow.    
  
no, it wasn't that. he'd definitely remember if it was.    
  
a few more minutes are spent tossing and turning, ignoring the morning's call and the screech of his alarm clock on his bedside table until eventually the vibration of his phone against the table top pierces through the (mostly) calm arrival of a new day.    
  
he cracks an eye open. 6:36 am, his alarm reads. no one that he bothers with would be mad enough to try and contact him this early in the morning, let alone be fully awake themselves.    
  
except one.    
  
a hand shoots out from under the covers. palm coating the screen and fingers hooked around the sides, hyungil draws his phone off the table and swipes across his most recent notification without a glance at the preview.    
  
by the time he's read through the entire text, hyungil regrets his eagerness to open the message.

  
  
**CHEOLS [ 06:36 ]**   
wake up, asshole. it's your first day back and the sky isn't even crying - it's a sign. listen, i know i said i'd swing around to pick you up but wonshik needs a ride. you know how he gets, better safe than sorry. i know the bus isn't your favorite thing but it's just for today. you have me all to yourself tomorrow. and the day after that, etc. i'll see you when you get here.

  
  
his phone is face down when it's slammed against the dresser.    
  
hyungil decides to worry about scratch marks when he isn't merrily digging himself back inside the covers, disappointment clawing at the back of his throat and a cruel and pointed, poison-laced stubbornness isn't bleeding out of his veins.


End file.
